


Cruel Summer

by FairyNiamh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Accidents, Community: trope_bingo, F/M, I'm Sorry, Medical Procedures, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Tissue Warning, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyNiamh/pseuds/FairyNiamh
Summary: Sam and Jessica order their wedding cake. Things go down hill from there. (Read Author's Notes)





	Cruel Summer

**Author's Note:**

> 11.) A song that makes you 'Sad'.
> 
> You Are My Sunshine Cover by: Jasmine Thompson
> 
>  
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cBzMSPYKas
> 
>  
> 
> Possible Triggers: Vehicle Accidents, Mentions Previous Deaths, Drunk Driving, Death of Major Character. If you read this, have your tissues ready, because I am out to rip out a heart.

No one had expected this to happen.

The day started out beautifully. Like, make you gag beautiful. Sam and Jessica had been at the baker settling on a wedding cake. Sam insisting that there had to be at least one pie for his best man... his brother.

Sam and Jessica had argued a bit, but it was the baker who suggested a layer with a cherry pie baked in the chocolate cake. It had pleased the couple and eased the harried looking baker.

Sam was headed home, because Jessica was due to get her gown fitted for the first time, and _he_ wasn't allowed to peek.

He had laughed it off and started talking about possible wedding favors. Jessica rambled on about her making special bride and groom cookies as a favor. Sam didn't have the heart to tell her she was as artistic as new born baby.

They were at a red light, laughing when it happened.

A Semi-truck was flying down the road and smashed into their car. Sam had managed to back up enough so the truck only clipped the nose of the car. The outcome of the crash was still... horrific.

Dean had received a call letting him know that his brother was in an accident. His passenger was in shock and her parents had been called, his brother. Well, he was still in surgery. Things were not looking great for him and if he could please spare some time to come to the hospital.

Dean had called Jody, explained what was going on, and requested a police escort. She did better than that, she picked him up in her squad car, and moved through the traffic as if her cruiser had wings.

Once he was in the hospital, he went straight to the E.R. check in and asked about his brother. He was forced to wait for what felt like forever, in reality it was only five minutes. A frazzled nurse came out and called, "Mr. Winchester?"

He jumped out of his seat and rushed to the diminutive woman. "How is he doing?"

"The doctors are working on him and doing everything that they can to save his life. Now, I understand that his passenger was his fiancée, not his wife, is that correct?"

"They're a month away from exchanging vows," he explains weakly.

"Do you know if your brother have a living will?"

Dean shook his head. Sure, they had talked about things before Sam had met Jessica, but it was bullshit.

"Okay, any other living relative?"

"No, not biological. Our mom died when we were young and dad died four years ago," he replies softly. He didn't like to talk about his parents. Too many bad memories.

The nursed sighed heavily at the news. "I'm sorry for your loss. I know that Miss Moore would like to have more say in her fiancée's care. However, legally, the hospital's hands are tied. We need you to sign a few consent forms."

"Consent?"

"Yes, does he have any religious or moral beliefs against using medication?"

"No."

"Okay, is he bias against receiving a blood transfusion?" she asked as she started to tick off boxes.

"Not that I am aware of."

"Any allergies?"

"A mild allergy to Sulfa and a severe allergy to shellfish," rolled from his tongue.

"Previous surgeries?"

"He had his left femur reset after he broke it. Does that count?" he wondered, even as he answered the question.

The nurse took a deep breath and plowed forward, "There is no easy way to ask this. In case your brother takes a sharp turn for the worse, are there any religious or spiritual needs that need to be met?"

"Jesus, is he that bad off?" Dean asked feeling weak in the knees.

"If it makes you feel better, we would be asking the same questions if you had come in with a broken leg. It is a standard precaution," she said in a tone to convey hope, though right now, he wasn't feeling it.

"Okay, no, nothing that I know of. I can ask Jess, he might have changed something."

"That's fine, if you find out something new, then please, let us know. Last question, for now, does he have any DNR orders?"

"DNR?" he asked weakly, not for reasons the nurse might think.

"Do not..."

"I know what it means. I went through this before, remember? The only thing he ever said is that is he is brain dead, he didn't want to live to be a burden," Dean choked on the last sentence, not wanting to think about things like this.

The nurse nodded sadly. "We are keeping an eye on all of his vitals the best we can, if you'll follow me to the Surgery Theater waiting room. This way the doctor's will have an easier time reaching you."

"Surgery Theater? Why isn't he in an Operating room? I will not consent to him being a spectacle."

The nurse put a hand on his shoulder and tried to calm him, "Relax. It was the only surgery room we had open, and is the one that the doctors _usually_ use to train residents. It's also the only room where a video conference is available."

"Why would a doctor need that?"

"Dr. Lewis is a very good surgeon, but with cases like your brother's, he usually has Dr. Robert there to help him. Dr. Robert is the unorthodox of the two, but his intuition has never been wrong."

"No resident doctor's?" he asked warily.

"There is one in there acting as a nurse. He's not allowed to ask questions until _after_ they are finished. Now, let's get you settled into that waiting room," came the gentle reply.

Dean allowed himself to be lead to the waiting room, only pulling himself out of his circle of worry and hope when he saw the phone in the room. "Can I use this?" he asked, pointing to the phone.

"It only does local calls, but yes, you may use it. Dial 9 and then your number," she explained before hurrying away.

Dean sat down and the desk and picked up the receiver, only to put it down slowly. He shook his head at the impulse to call his dad. 

It was a stupid impulse, really, it was as his Dad had been dead and buried for the past 6 months. Still, he found himself at odd with the fact that he was an orphan before he was even 25.

Now, fucking hell, now he might... 

He shook his head and turned on the television. He needed a distraction, before his thoughts turned even more morose and morbid.

Flicking through the channels did not help, like at all. Deaths on all the Soap Operas, Jerry Springer was airing a rare serious episode, and This Old House does nothing to distract him.

He sat there, head in his hands, doing something he has not done in a long time, he prayed. He prayed for a miracle or a sign. Just... he wanted his stuck-up brother to be okay. He looked at the room and was both grateful and angry that there was no clock in the room.

The next time the door opened, it was not a nurse, doctor, or even a Chaplin. No, it was Jessica. She was bruised and limped, but she walked over to him and gave him a hug. "How are you doing?"

"That depends, how is Sam?" she countered.

He thought about smiling and lying to her, but she didn't deserve that, "I don't know. They-they're still working on him."

"We were supposed to be getting ready to have dinner with my parents," she sniffled.

Dean didn't have anything to say to that. There was a lot that everyone should be doing other than sitting in the hospital with Sam in bad shape.

"I-I was supposed to keep this, in case of an emergency. This definitely counts as an emergency," Jess muttered as she handed him an envelope.

"What's this?" He asked as he slowly opened said envelope.

"His living will."

"You're his fiancée, shouldn't you hold on to this?' He asked, not wanting to know anything.

"No, you are his only living relative. The hospital will look to you for directions. He really loved you. You two had your disagreements, but there was never a lack of love there. He even talked me into having a layer of pie cake, just for you," she sniffled.

Dean felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. "He loved you, so much, Jessica. You should keep this."

"No, I really shouldn't. He already tried to give it to me. I warned him that I wouldn't be able to follow his wishes. I could never pull the plug on him. I love him so much that I always want him to be here with me. I'm greedy like that," she confessed.

Dean nodded his head and opened the letter. Even though he opened it, he didn't read it. He didn't need to, he knew what it would say, but he didn't have to like it any more than Jessica did. It wasn't his fault that he had followed his dad's final wished to die without pain. Sam had understood their dad and had been with him every step of the way when they had kissed their father and pulled the plug. They had stood side by side the, but now? No, he would brace himself for the worst, but hope for the best.

The pair sat in silence, both praying for the same thing. That Sam, the light of their lives would pull through. That he would come storming the doors, arms wide open and that huge dopey grin on his face. They didn't care if he was scraped, bruised, or even had some broken bones. They could and would tend to him until he was back on his feet.

They both were surprised when Father Delaney walked into the waiting room. Dean's stomach dropped. He hadn't seen the man since his father had passed.

"How are you doing, Dean?" the pastor asked softly.

Dean just looked up and shook his head before looking down to contemplate the floor. He didn't want to think about what was going on right now. He was too numb to feel anything.

The man rubbed his back as he continued to talk. "Jessica, how are you holding on?"

Dean looked to see her rapidly running her tongue over her lower lip. "I'm sore, worried... and I'm really angry." she sniffled.

"Why are you angry?" Dean wanted to snort at the question. He could answer it for her, but he knew that the man was trying to set her on the path to healing. Which wasn't fucking needed. His baby brother was still alive. Yeah, they would have to move the wedding date, but that was nothing to cry over. They could move forward.

"Truckers are the life blood of the country, I get that, and I respect what they do. However, the fucker who hit us? It wasn't because he was tired. It wasn't because something went wrong with the truck. No, it was because that asshole driver decided to celebrate a fucking touchdown by drinking. Who gets drunk to celebrate something so stupid? Now my fiancée is in surgery. So, yeah, I am pissed," she justifiably ranted.

Dean hadn't known that the person who hit them was drunk. Of course, knowing that did nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. 

"Winchester," a frazzled and tired looking doctor called from the door.

"Here," Dean replied urgently as he shot up from his seat. The doctor nodded to the priest and motioned the man out of the room.

The doctor took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "How are you related to the patient?"

"He's my little brother. Is he okay?" he asked.

"We've done as much as we could. The rest is up to him, but I have to be honest; it doesn't look good. If you want to see him, you should go now."

"Jessica?"

The woman stood there crying and shaking her head. He understood, god did he ever understand the tears that were running down her face. He wouldn't cry, not yet. He turned to the doctor and nodded his head.

When he got to the O.R. he had to gasp at the sight. Laying among the bloodied blue covers, was his baby brother. The man who he practically raised when their father had been too drunk to give a fuck. Rather than his vibrant perky self, he looked pale and washed out.

"Hey Sammy, what the hell are you doing laying here? You're supposed to be helping that pretty fiancée of your organize your wedding. Your slacking behind man. Anyway, she gave me this thing you did about decisions. I haven't read it, not yet. I guess I should," he rambled.

He read the living will and felt his heart land in his feet. "What kind of wish is this, huh? You _want_ me to sing? I thought you hated my voice. I'll sing to you, but at the end of the song, you have to wake up. You understand me Sammy, you _have to_ wake up," he ordered. 

He took his brother's hand, cleared his voice, and started to sing the song Sammy chose.

" _The other night dear, as I lay sleeping  
I dreamed I held you in my arms,  
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken  
So, I hung my head and I cried._

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine  
You make me happy when skies are gray  
You'll never know dear; how much I love you  
Please don't take my sunshine away_

'No, no, come on Sammy. This was not the deal. You are supposed to wake up and not leave us," he panicked and shook his brother, as he heard the rythmic beep of the machine turn into one long steady beep. He knew what that meant and no!

The nurses pushed him out of the way as he yelled, "This isn't funny anymore Sam. Wake the fuck up!"

Once they had him in the waiting room, Jessica took the sobbing man and joined him in his grief.

Twenty minutes later, the doctor announced officially what they both already knew. The trauma had been too much and Sam succumbed to his injuries. At 21:05 the light of their life went out. It was only fitting that it rained as the world mourned his passing as much as the pain inside were mourning him.

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I almost made Jessica find out she was pregnant with Sam's baby at the end, but this is a far more unhappy ending.


End file.
